You Get Me Closer to God
by Garideth
Summary: EXPANDED! Random story shots with Castiel and a prostitute named Jill. Starts after "Dark Side of the Moon" and goes on into the sixth season.
1. You Can Have My Absence of Faith

**This started out as a one-shot. I was struck with the idea sometime in January of 2012 while listening to "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. (Yeah, I know, weird song to get inspiration for a Cas story. It kinda explains itself as this chapter goes on.) After posting this, one reviewer, MyEffect, got into a discussion with me over private message and encouraged me to expand this. So, now, this has become a randomly updated whatever-shot. Whenever I come up with an idea, I'll write it and post it, but I'm not keeping any obligation to this story. It's a bit of a side project, I suppose. Wherever I leave it, that's where it will stay for however long. Just thought I'd let any of you who may soon be eagerly awaiting the next update know how this is gonna work.**

**Also, this is in no way affiliated with my **_**Not Strong Enough **_**series. At least… not yet.**

**I don't own **_**Supernatural **_**or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

"_Maybe… maybe Joshua was lying."_

"_I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry."_

_Castiel turned his face up to the ceiling, glaring up at Heaven through the cracked plaster. He was shaking with barely restrained fury and absolute disappointment. For the first time in his entire existence, he felt as though he might cry. "You son of a bitch," he cursed, hoping that his father, wherever he might be, would at least feel the force of his son's fury. "I believed in—"_

Castiel didn't really remember how he had come to be sitting on a park bench in Chicago and conversing with a prostitute, but there he was nonetheless.

It was kind of late—almost midnight. He had left the Winchesters an hour or so ago, right after sharing the most devastating news that he could imagine: God was nowhere to be found. It was the middle of the _Apocalypse_, and God was, as Dean would say, AWOL. Castiel had put so much faith in his father, only to be let down time and time again. Maybe his brothers and sisters were right, or maybe Dean was. Maybe God really _was_ dead, or maybe He really just didn't care anymore.

The moment Castiel had realized that his search was a waste of time, he had decided to give up, to stop caring as of _right then, _and seeing the prostitute sitting alone on the park bench had been a perfect coincidence. After all, wasn't that how Dean dealt with his problems—imbibing copious quantities of alcohol and indulging in meaningless sexual relations until the pain eventually faded into the background?

The woman was beautiful—even being an angel, Castiel could appreciate the gentle curves of the woman's body, the shine of her soft brown hair, the smooth, unblemished look of her skin. This woman didn't look as though she belonged in the business of selling her body. She carried herself with a sort of pride and dignity he rarely ever saw anymore, even in Dean—_especially _in Dean.

At about that moment, Jimmy's human cravings kicked in—they had been doing that a lot lately—and Castiel had the sudden urge to touch and to be touched. Before he was consciously aware of it, he was walking over and awkwardly sitting down beside the prostitute on the park bench.

She looked up and smiled at him, faltering when she noticed his expression. "You look like you could use a friend," she said kindly, her warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled again. "I'm Jillian, but you can call me Jill." Castiel stared at her stupidly, big blue eyes wide with nervousness as he tried to figure out what to say. "It's okay; you don't have to tell me your name." Jill looked him up and down, scrutinizing him closely, then said, "It's like seventy five degrees out here, and you're in a business suit and a trench coat. Aren't you like sweatin' to death or something? I've barely got any clothes on as it is, and I'm about to have a heatstroke."

Castiel didn't really know what to say to that. "Technically, it's an overcoat," he replied quietly, playing with one of the buttons on his favorite piece of Jimmy's clothing.

"Ah, so he speaks!" Jill said with a laugh, and Castiel briefly thought that he was being mocked as he so often was by Dean; then he realized that Jill was just being friendly. There was still so much he didn't understand about humans, and always being around Dean, who spouted sarcasm and backhanded comments constantly, didn't help that. "Well, I'm gonna ask anyway. So what's your name, stranger?" she asked him. "And why so blue?"

Castiel looked down at his hands and thought that his skin tone was perfectly normal, then looked back up at Jill with confusion. "My name is Castiel," he replied, furrowing his brow. "And my skin is how it should be." Jill busted out laughing, a loud—but not obnoxious—sound that was occasionally pierced by small snorts. "I said something amusing?" Castiel asked, puzzled.

"Sweetie," Jill said, placing her hand on his arm as her laughter subsided, "when someone asks 'why so blue?' they're askin' why you look so sad."

"Oh," Castiel said, still not understanding. How could a color be sad? His suit was blue, and it wasn't sad—it was clothing.

He stared at Jill for a moment, wanting her touch and wishing he knew how to love, but also wanting to just _talk _to somebody about his recent faithlessness, somebody who had no attachment to him or his problem whatsoever. Dean was always too busy—he called when he needed help, and that was it. He didn't have time to have a conversation about faith with a doubting angel, especially considering how little faith he had himself. Castiel knew that Sam believed, but also knew that, after meeting the angels last year, his disappointment made him guarded.

Castiel sighed. He shouldn't be so resentful. The Winchesters—and even Bobby—had faith in him, whether they had faith in God or not.

"Hey, um, what was it… Castiel?" Jill said, jolting the angel out of his thoughts. "Angel of Thursday, right?" she asked. "That's who you were named for?" Castiel nodded, having learned by now that telling people you _were_ the Angel of Thursday didn't usually go over well. "Well, penny for your thoughts, Mr. Thursday?" she asked, and after a moment of confusion, he held out his hand, expecting for her to give him the copper coin. Jill laughed again and said, "Just another expression. It means I'm concerned, and I wanna know what's botherin' you."

"Oh," Castiel said again, blushing embarrassedly and starting to withdraw his hand.

"But, here," Jill said, pulling a small red money-pouch out of her cleavage, rummaging around a bit, then handing him an old, dirty penny. She put the pouch away, smiling brightly. "So, now that I paid you," she said, grinning triumphantly, "you _have _to tell me."

He turned the penny over in his hands, thinking, then fixed Jill with a pleading look, hoping she would understand. "I've lost faith," he said simply.

"I'm gonna need a little more to go on."

"My… my father left me," Castiel began hesitantly, "not very long ago. He's always been there for me, and for my siblings, and even though I never saw him, I just knew he was _there_. I had complete faith in him. I worshipped him. He was everything I wished to be and more." Jill squeezed his arm reassuringly, apparently noticing the utter devastation in his deep, monotonous voice. "Recently, I went looking for him. I needed his help, and badly—I still do. Before, I could always find him, or at least contact him, but now…. I've searched everywhere, and he's nowhere to be found. I trusted him, _believed _in him, and he left me, the only one of his children who still had faith. Now, I'm lost. I don't know what to do. I have no hope, and I've lost all faith."

"I know how you feel, Cas," Jill said softly, sliding her arm through his.

"You… you do?"

"Sounds like you have the same problem I had about a year ago. I caught my husband cheating on me, right after I found out I was pregnant. I divorced the son of a bitch, and he took everything—not that we really had all that much. I moved into that apartment over there." Jill pointed with her free hand to a run-down building covered with graffiti, and Castiel stared at it in disbelief. People lived in _that_? "Couple weeks after I moved in," she continued, "I fell down the stairs. Didn't have any major injuries that I knew of, but I went to the doctor just in case. And he told me… he told me my baby was gone." Jill sniffled and hugged Castiel's arm tighter, and much to his surprise, it felt kind of… right. "That baby was the only thing I had goin' for me, the only good thing for me to look forward to—I always wanted a baby, ever since I was little, and I always loved kids—and just like that, my only hope was gone. I'd always been a pretty devout Christian 'cause both my parents were and everything, but right at that moment, I lost all faith in God. I'd never done anything wrong—how did I deserve that?"

"You didn't," Castiel replied, covering her had with his own in an effort to be comforting, and it seemed to work. "Please, go on. How did you regain your faith in my fa—in God?"

If Jill noticed his slip-up, she didn't act like it. Wiping her eyes with one hand and giving him a watery smile, she said, "I prayed. I prayed for a sign, something that would tell me God hadn't given up on me yet."

"_And?_" Castiel pressed urgently, the need to know stronger that anything he'd ever felt.

"And the next day, right outside my apartment, I saw a flyer for an orphanage that needed another nanny. I knew it was my sign—literally. I went by and started almost immediately. I'm workin' with kids every day, and once I get enough money to move, I'm gonna adopt one, or maybe two, or even _three _of them."

"But you're a—"

"A hooker, yeah," Jill finished, nodding. "But it's only an extra way to get cash. Soon as I can afford it, I'm quittin' on the spot. I'm gonna give my kids a great home, and I'm gonna protect them from everything that comes their way. I'm not gonna let them end up like me. For right now, this is where God wants me, and until I know it's time, this is where I'm gonna stay."

"Thank you," Castiel said, stunned by Jill's story, and he once again felt the unfamiliar prickling of tears in his eyes. That couldn't be right. Could angels cry? "I can never thank you enough."

"Don't mention it," Jill said, waving her hand like it was nothing, but it was _everything_ to Castiel. "Now, if you want me for the night, you can have me, no charge. But you don't really want me, do ya? You're just not that kinda person."

"No, I'm not," Castiel agreed, feeling a spark of hope in his heart once more.

"Didn't think so." She gave him that crinkly-eyed smile of hers, her brown eyes sparkling. "So get out there, Mr. Thursday," she said, pecking his cheek lightly. "Use those angel wings and go find God."

Ignoring the bewildered look that he gave her, Jillian the prostitute turned her back on the angel and walked away, leaving him with a renewed sense of purpose and faith.

"Thank you," he said once more, much too quiet for anyone to hear. Opening his hand, he stared down at the tarnished, practically useless coin, then tilted his face up to the sky. In the same, barely audible voice, he murmured, "Penny for your thoughts, Father?"

With one of his rare smiles, Castiel tucked the penny in his pocket and walked away from the bustling city.


	2. Help Me, I've Got No Soul to Sell

**I don't own **_**Supernatural **_**or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

"_You look like you could use a friend," she said kindly, her warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled again. "I'm Jillian, but you can call me Jill."_

The Apocalypse was over.

Sam Winchester's crazy plan had worked, and now he and his half-brother, Adam, were in the Cage with Lucifer and Michael. Obeying his brother's wish, Dean had gone to live with Lisa Braeden and her son, Ben.

With Michael gone, Heaven was in a state of chaos and anarchy. The archangel Raphael was collecting followers to help him restart the Apocalypse, and no one could or would stand against him.

Except for Castiel.

He had tried to fight against his older brother, but he had been defeated easily, and Raphael hadn't even broken a sweat. Castiel kept up his defiance, and the Civil War in Heaven began, Castiel's few friends and followers against Raphael's infinite numbers. To have even the slightest chance of winning, Castiel would need to gain an unimaginable amount of power. The question was _how. _

_Castiel watched, invisible, as Dean raked up leaves in Lisa Braeden's backyard and put them in a garbage bag. He had been standing there for a very long time, debating whether or not to reveal himself. He needed help, and Dean was the only one he knew to turn to. But Castiel couldn't do it. Dean had sacrificed so much, and Castiel couldn't bear to ask him for more._

"_Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?" Castiel turned to stare at the demon Crowley, who had somehow snuck up on him while he was watching Dean._

"_What are _you _doing here?" the angel asked, somewhat accusatorily._

"_I want to help you help me help ourselves." _

"_Speak plain."_

"_I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That's all." The demon smirked at the disbelief on Castiel's face._

"_You want to make a _deal_?" Castiel said incredulously. "With _me_? I'm an _angel, _you ass. I don't have a soul to sell." What was Crowley getting at?_

"_But that's it, isn't it?" Crowley's smirk continued to grow. "It's all of it. It's the souls. It all comes down to the souls in the end, doesn't it?"_

_Castiel's patience was growing thin. "What the hell are you talking about?"_

"_I'm talking about Raphael's head on a pike. I'm talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres intended. Come on, just a chat."_

"_I have no interest in talking with you."_

"_Why not? I'm _very _interesting. Come on. Hear me out. Five minutes. No obligations. I promise—I'll make it worth your while." _

_After a moment's hesitation, the angel spared one last glance at Dean and followed the demon._

Castiel was back on the park bench in Chicago, and for what reason, he didn't know. It had been around six months since he met Jillian the prostitute. For all he knew, she could be gone. He hoped desperately that she wasn't.

He just needed someone to talk to. After hearing the terms of Crowley's deal, he had told the demon he would need time to consider. What Crowley was suggesting… it was insane. An angel and a demon, working _together? _Castiel may not have been very good at understanding humor and sarcasm, but he knew for a fact that, no matter how bizarre the deal was, Crowley had _not _been joking.

The offer _was _tempting, to be honest. And it _did _seem like the only way. But it couldn't be, could it? Hadn't he learned that trusting demons was never a smart thing to do? And shouldn't that mean that an _angel _would have to be twice as stupid to trust one? If he agreed to Crowley's deal, he would be in league with the King of the Crossroads—no, now that Lucifer was gone, Crowley was the King of Hell, which was infinitely worse.

Castiel folded his hands in his lap and leaned slightly forward, staring out at the small playground across the road from the park bench. It was crawling with small children, all wearing identical purple shirts. He supposed it was for some kind of school outing. He watched the children for a minute, thinking of Jillian's job at the orphanage and wondering if she had earned enough money to quit her other job. He remembered how much she had wanted children.

Why did he care so much? She was just a woman he had met once and never seen again.

No, that was a lie. She had changed his life. Just by saying a few words, she had restored his faith in his father.

True, his father _was _gone. But He _wasn't_ dead, and He _did _still care. He brought Castiel back to life when Lucifer had killed him. He had restored Castiel's angelic powers. He had given Castiel a chance to change the hierarchal order of Heaven, to take the power from the archangels and reform the system for the better. No more killing, no more attempts at starting the Apocalypse, just peace—the way it should be.

Castiel sighed. She wasn't there, and she wasn't _going _to be there. It had been a fleeting hope, and a terribly stupid idea. He scoffed at himself, at how pathetic he was. With a last glance at the playground, he stood up, deciding it was pointless to stay any longer.

_Wait._ Castiel did a double-take. It couldn't be… Was that really—?

Jillian the prostitute was currently helping a small girl up the ladder to the plastic yellow slide. She looked different somehow, and it wasn't because of the fact that her hair had grown to her elbows and she was wearing more conservative clothes (including one of those purple t-shirts). No, this was something else. She looked _happy. _When he had met her the first time, she was full of pride and dignity and acceptance of her less than fortunate life, but she hadn't looked truly happy.

That had completely changed. As he watched, she threw her head back and laughed as the little girl slid down the slide and tumbled onto the ground. Even though he was too far away to hear it, he could imagine her loud, boisterous, occasionally snorting laughter, and he felt a small smile spread over his face.

Suddenly, she looked right at him, her smile faltering the slightest bit as she tried to work out who was staring at her; then she grinned widely as she was hit by the realization. She bent down to say something to the little girl, who ran to another woman sitting on a swing and whispered in her ear. The woman nodded at Jillian, and Jillian grinned again, then walked to the curb, waiting on a car to pass. Once the road was clear, Jillian jogged across and came toward Castiel.

He couldn't stop smiling, and he didn't know why. Who was this woman to make him feel so much? He was a full angel now; his human emotions and cravings shouldn't be this strong. But they were.

Jillian didn't stop in front of him; instead, she lunged at him and wrapped him in a tight hug that cut off his flow of oxygen—not that he really needed it. "Cas!" she exclaimed. "What the hell are you doin' here?" Castiel coughed a little, and she released him, stepping back and blushing furiously. "Sorry 'bout that. I just never thought I'd see you again!"

"Hello, Jillian," he said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"What'd I tell you last time, Cas?" she said, shaking her head. "Call me Jill!"

"Jill." Castiel said her name reverently, liking the way his mouth formed around the word.

"So why're you here, sweetie?" Jill asked.

Castiel hesitated, unsure of what to say. It's not like he could tell her about the deal. It wasn't as simple as talking about his father—all he had to do then was refer to him as "Father," instead of "God," which is what he usually did anyway. But on the other hand, she had somehow figured out that he was an angel, and she didn't question that whatsoever. Maybe he _could _tell her. He could certainly use her caring advice.

"C'mon, sweetie," she coaxed, reaching for his hand. He stared down at their entwined fingers in bewilderment, and she squeezed his hand. He had forgotten how her touch felt, how right it seemed. "You can tell me."

"How did you know?" he said, finally having made up his mind.

"Know what?"

"That I'm an angel."

"Oh!" Jill looked up at the sky thoughtfully for a minute. "I dunno. I just kinda… knew. I mean, the way you talked about your dad—it sounded like my whole 'faithless' situation. And how you didn't really get the way I was talking, like that you thought I was sayin' your skin was blue and I was gonna give you money for talking to me. And your name, too. You looked all uncomfortable when I asked if you were named after the Angel of Thursday. The pieces just kinda fit, and I just had this feelin'. Guess I was right!"

"Oh." Her confession worried him. If she had pieced it together, what if other humans he had interacted with had, too? Maybe he wasn't as good at blending in as he thought…

"Cas, you're stalling," Jill said, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"I am?"

"Yeah, and you know it, too. Tell me what's wrong. I know you weren't just passin' through the Windy City. I mean, you're an _angel. _You gotta have a reason, right?"

Oh, yes, he had a reason. _She _was the reason—not her kind words and her advice, just _her. _He had thought about her every day since they had first met, even during the final battle at Stull Cemetery. But he shouldn't say that, should he? No, that would be much too forward and much too pathetic.

Instead, he said, "You gave me good advice once, and I was hoping that you could again. I just don't know who else to turn to."

"Alright, well, I'll try," Jill said, nodding. "But you're gonna have to tell me a little bit of your problem, y'know." She led him over to the park bench and pulled him down beside her. "So… penny for your thoughts, Mr. Thursday?" She smiled brightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners like always, and a grin tugged at the corners of Castiel's mouth.

"It's… difficult to explain," he began, staring down at the ground. Maybe he shouldn't say anything. Maybe he should just leave. He was getting a human involved in the affairs of Heaven. This had to be illegal.

"Give it your best shot," Jill encouraged, squeezing his hand once reassuringly, and all of his determination to leave disappeared. To Hell with the rules. He'd broken enough of them already; one more wouldn't make a difference.

Taking a deep breath, he looked back up at her, fixing her with big, pleading, blue eyes. "There is a civil war in Heaven, between Raphael and his legions and… and me and my few followers." Jill gasped, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "Maybe… maybe I should go back further," he said unsurely.

"Yeah, that might help," she agreed, her eyes wide with alarm.

This was going to be difficult. "First, you have to know that the Apocalypse has come and gone."

"That _can't _be true," Jill argued disbelievingly, releasing Castiel's hand to gesture wildly. "Where was all the death and destruction?!"

"It _is _true," Castiel assured her. "I, along with three hunters, stopped it."

Jill stared at him incredulously; then her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Okay…" she said slowly, seeming to believe him. "Okay. And by hunters, you mean like redneck, backwoods hicks or…?"

"Sam, Dean, and Bobby hunt supernatural creatures…" Castiel informed her hesitantly, wishing he hadn't said anything. He didn't want to scare her and have her live her life knowing what was out there. On the other hand, maybe it was best that she knew. Then she could protect herself.

"Wait, _what? _You're joking! You _gotta _be joking!"

"I… I don't really joke, Jillian—uh, Jill."

"Yeah, but… Monsters are _real_?!"

"I'm afraid so."

Jill let out a small snort of mirthless laughter and shook her head slowly. "Vampires and werewolves and ghosts—oh, my!" she muttered, sounding awed. "So these humans—I mean, guys—hunt monsters for a living?"

"Yes, and there are others out there. They all began hunting for different reasons, most commonly because a loved one was killed by one of the creatures. It often becomes a tradition, passing down through generations. Sam and Dean, for example, were raised in the life by their father after their mother was killed. They recently discovered that _she _was also a hunter and was also raised in the life." He felt kind of shameful and traitorous for telling a stranger about the Winchesters' lives. Dean would _not _be happy with him. But Dean wasn't there anymore, and Jillian wasn't really a stranger. At least, not to him.

"Who would _do _that to a kid?" Jill asked, sounding slightly angry. "That's _awful!"_

"Is it really?" Castiel replied calmly. "If you knew what was out there, would you not do everything in your power to protect your children from harm? Even if it meant raising them like warriors?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Jill frowned and looked down, absentmindedly grabbing his hand and flipping it over to trace the lines on his palm. He fidgeted a little at her light touch, and she stopped and looked up at him questioningly.

"D—don't," the angel stuttered nervously. "It—it's nice." And it was, as was everything else that Jill did to him. Every glance, every smile, every touch was just extremely _nice. _

Jill grinned at him, her brown eyes sparkling mischievously, and her finger resumed its path along his hand. "Do I make you nervous, Cas?" she teased.

"No!" he protested, just a little too quickly, and Jill laughed. He hung his head in embarrassment. "A—a little," he admitted sheepishly.

"It's okay," she assured him. "You make me nervous, too." A small, slightly uncomfortable silence passed, a silence just long enough to allow Castiel to wonder over Jill's confession. Was it really possible that he affected her in the same way that she affected him? "We keep gettin' off topic," Jill said, interrupting his thoughts. "You still haven't told me what's wrong."

Castiel froze. It wasn't too late to turn back. He didn't have to tell her anything. He had already told her about the supernatural and the Apocalypse, he didn't have to involve her in his deal with Crowley, too. No, he didn't have to tell her—but he wanted to. "I was given an offer," he said at last, and Jill looked up at him again. "A demon named Crowley—the new King of Hell, now that Lucifer is back in his Cage—wants to help me win the war."

"A _demon?"_ Jill gasped. "So—so demons are real, _too?"_

"Unfortunately, yes—they are _very _real, _very _manipulative, and _very _dangerous."

"Yet you're _still _considering the deal? Even knowing how they are?"

"You don't understand," Castiel said, making a low, frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "Crowley is going to help me get souls—full of raw, absolute _power—_and I need that power to defeat Raphael. He's much stronger than me. I stand no chance."

"What's so bad about a Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel?" Jill asked curiously, and Castiel gave her an odd look. Dean had called Raphael that, too. He had no idea what either of them was talking about. "I mean, he's an _angel; _he can't be _that _bad."

"Lucifer was also an angel," Castiel reminded her.

"Ah. Good point. But, still. What's so bad about him?"

"Raphael is a traditionalist, and he always has been. He also harbors a certain dislike for me and angels like me. We disagree with his ideas."

"What's a traditionalist?"

"A traditionalist is someone who wants to restart the Apocalypse so that it will end in the desired way—Michael and Lucifer, locked in a fierce battle to the death. If Michael wins, Earth becomes Paradise. If Lucifer wins, Earth becomes Hell."

"Why not just help Michael win?" Jill suggested. "Wouldn't that be the logical thing to do?" Oh, how naïve she was. He had thought the same once. But he had learned better.

"That was my original plan," Castiel agreed with a nod.

"But?" Jill asked. "What changed?"

"Two boys and an old drunk taught me that freedom was better than a forced paradise—for that's what Earth would have become had the Apocalypse ended in the angels' favor."

"I dunno… Paradise _would _be nice…" Jill mused, "…for some people, anyway..." She looked across the road at the playground and returned the cheery wave of the little girl from earlier. Castiel knew that she was talking about herself, and it physically pained him when he thought of what she had been through.

"But what's the price of Paradise?" he responded. "For it to happen, countless people would have to die."

"I guess I get what you're sayin'," she said as she turned back to him. "It's not really Paradise if it has so many casualties, is it?"

"No, it isn't."

"This deal… What are the terms?"

Castiel sighed. Here came the crazy part. "Crowley and I are going to search for Purgatory. With its supply of souls, I'll be nearly invincible. Raphael won't stand a chance."

"And the demon? Crowley?"

"What about him?"

"What does _he _get out of all this?"

He hesitated. _This _was the part of the deal that unnerved him. He supposed it was fair, but Crowley gaining power couldn't be a good thing. And he knew that Jill would feel the same. "Half of the souls," he said finally, not meeting her eye.

"Cas, you _can't _be serious!" Jill exclaimed. "The _King of_ _Hell _is gonna get his hands on half the souls?!"

"I know. I don't like it, either."

"You can't find Purgatory on your own?" she tried.

"Crowley has resources that I don't," Castiel told her, "and he has _time_, which makes him infinitely more valuable. I'm in Heaven almost constantly, and when I'm not, I'm keeping an eye on Dean. With his brother gone, I imagine he's yearning to do something stupid, like selling his soul again."

"Selling his…? _Again…?" _Jill squeaked. Castiel sighed. _Why _had he mentioned that? "Okay, never mind," she said, shaking her head vehemently. "Forget it. I see where you're comin' from, Cas."

"You do?" Surprise colored his deep voice. How could she be so understanding of everything?

"Yeah, I do. You feel like you got no other choice, or, even if you do, this is the best one."

"Yes, exactly."

"I'm sorry."

Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion. "For what?"

"I don't have any metaphors or some past experience to compare your problems to this time." She grinned apologetically, and he felt himself smile again.

"I… I don't think I expected you to," he admitted. "I just needed to talk to someone." That was almost the truth. He had just needed to talk to _her. _

Jill laughed. "Well, I'm definitely one for talking." Castiel's smile widened the smallest bit as she snorted. "But I _can_ give you one little piece of advice. It's _very _cliché, and it might not work for an angel, but I always thought it was the best advice there is."

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

Jill took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it gently. "Close your eyes," she told him. He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him, commanding, "Just do it!" He obeyed reluctantly, realizing the reason he'd tried to protest was that he didn't want to take his eyes off her, not even for a millisecond. "Now, empty your mind," she instructed, making her voice mysterious and grand. He knew enough of human culture to know that she was mimicking the women who wrongly called themselves psychics. "Let all your thoughts filter out."

"I don't see how this will—"

"Silence! Obey me!" Jill giggled and Castiel smiled at the sound. "Now, be completely still… and listen." By the end of the sentence, her voice had dropped to an almost-whisper.

"Listen to what?" Castiel whispered back.

"Your heart," Jill said, her voice now just barely audible. "Listen to your heart, Castiel. What's it telling you?"

Castiel listened. At first, there was nothing, and he began to feel quite ridiculous. He listened harder, if only to appease Jill. Then, suddenly, he knew what he had to do. It may not have been the only way, but he felt it was the best way. He would agree to the deal, but Crowley was an "idjit," as Bobby would say, if he thought that he was going to get a single soul. He would have to think that he was getting an even share, though, or he would most definitely call off their arrangement, and Castiel couldn't have that.

Once again, Jillian had helped him in a way that could never be repaid.

He opened his eyes, about to thank Jill for her help, but he froze. Her face was mere centimeters from his, and her chocolate brown eyes bore into his very soul—that is, they would have if he'd had one.

"Cas," she breathed, "would it be a sin to kiss an angel?"

Castiel blinked rapidly, his heart racing at a pace that, for a human, would've indicated cardiac arrest. He swallowed nervously and managed to stutter out, "I—I don't k—know…"

"Guess I'll find out the hard way, then, huh?" Jill closed the distance between them and softly pressed her lips to his.

Castiel didn't know what to do, but he tried his best. He had never shown any affection to anyone, especially not like this. The closest he had come was the night that Anna held his hand and convinced him to consider disobedience.

Well, there _was_ that one time Dean took him to a whorehouse, but that had ended badly…

Jill pulled back finally, a faint blush gracing her tan cheeks. "Sorry," she said quietly, her hand coming up to push a lock of hair behind her ear. Castiel briefly wished he had done it for her. She wouldn't look at him, choosing instead to stare at their still-entwined fingers. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No!" Castiel yelped, his eyes growing wide at the thought that she regretted it. To him, even though he wasn't sure how those things worked, it had been the most wonderful experience of his existence. The soft, inviting warmth of her lips was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. "I… don't know how to… I apologize if it was… unpleasant." The angel hung his head in shame and embarrassment, feeling a blush creep up his neck.

"Oh, _that's _what it is?" she asked, sounding both surprised and relieved. "I thought you were actin' like that 'cause I broke some law or something by kissing you! Oh, Cas, sweetie, you did _fine! _Hell, if you practice a little, I bet I could make the next Casanova outta you!"

He didn't understand her reference, but the meaning was clear. He wasn't as awful as he thought he would be. And Jill had nothing to worry about. As far as he knew, kissing an angel wasn't a sin. And if it was, well, they'd have to go through him to get to her.

"So… did you figure out what you're gonna do?" she asked, bringing him back to reality. She seemed to be acting like the kiss had never happened, and he couldn't decide if he was hurt or relieved. He decided on relieved. Knowing Jill, she changed the subject to take his mind off of his insecurities.

"Yes, I did," he told her. "And—"

"I don't wanna know what you chose, okay?" she said, holding up her hand to stop him. "'Cause if you think it's the right choice, then you should go for it, and I don't wanna accidentally influence you to change your mind." He found himself speechless at her level of understanding. "Hey, Cas?" she said hesitantly when he still didn't say anything.

"Yes?"

"What's the _real _reason you came back? I mean, the advice thing—that's pretty much bull, and you know it. You're not the best liar, sweetie. I guess it kinda comes with the whole 'angel' thing."

_The _real _reason? _he wanted to say. _The real reason that I came back was to see you again. Since that night, I've thought of almost nothing else but you. Even with the Apocalypse going on, you've been at the forefront of my brain the entire time. I'm an angel of the Lord and a commander in Heaven's civil war—I shouldn't feel like this. When God brought me back, my humanity should have disappeared, but, if anything, it's stronger. That humanity is what made me come back._

But, of course, he couldn't tell her that. Instead, he squeezed her hand hard, knowing that what he was about to say would ruin everything.

"You're a human," he told her, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. "You don't know how to protect yourself from the real danger that inhabits this world. You did me a favor once, and I felt it was my duty as a child of God to return the favor. So I came to make sure that you were safe. If you were to die, it would weigh heavily on my conscience, and I would feel responsible. I can't have that guilt when I face Raphael."

It had the effect he expected.

Jill released his hand and jumped up angrily. "That's _bullshit!" _she exclaimed furiously. "And you _know _it! You _care _about me, Castiel! _Admit it!"_

Castiel slowly got to his feet. "I… I have to go," he said uncomfortably. He didn't want to witness her pain any longer.

"Of _course _you do!" Jill fumed. "You're too big of a _coward _to admit you have _feelings, _so you gotta fly off!"

He tried desperately to keep the devastation he was feeling off his face. If she only knew… He was doing this to protect her. If Raphael found out that he was becoming attached, Jill would never be safe again, and it would be his fault.

He turned away from her without a word, preparing to leave, but she grabbed his arm. He spun back around to face her and was shocked to see that the fury on her face had been replaced with something like desperation. "Cas, wait!" she pleaded. "I'm sorry! Please don't go!" He just stared at her, not trusting himself to speak. "Will I… will I ever see you again?" Her eyes became misty, and he began to panic. If she started to cry, he would lose his uncaring act in a heartbeat.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

Before she had time to react, he touched two fingers to her forehead, and she collapsed in his arms. He carefully laid her down on the park bench, hoping that the children hadn't seen anything.

There. It was done. Now he could leave.

But something stopped him.

On a sudden whim, Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out the penny that Jill had given him that night. He placed it in her hand and curled her fingers around it tightly so she wouldn't drop it. Maybe one day, when the war was over and everything was back to normal, he could come back and beg for forgiveness.

"Goodbye, Jillian," the angel whispered, his voice getting caught by the wind and carried away as he left Chicago.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Castiel flashed up to Ken Lay's Heaven, the place where he'd been summoned by Raphael the time before. He could feel the 50,000 souls that Crowley had given him moving around in his vessel and filling him up with power. Souls truly were the eighth wonder of the world.

Sure enough, Raphael was there. Castiel barely registered the shock on the archangel's face before he swept his hand through the air, banishing Raphael from the room. If 50,000 souls could give him this much power, he could only imagine what all of the souls of Purgatory could do.

"There will be no Apocalypse," Castiel announced to the empty room, but he knew that every other angel in Heaven would hear the words he was speaking. "And let it be known: you're either with Raphael… or you're with _me_."

Now Castiel had a chance. If he and Crowley could find Purgatory, he would be unbeatable. The war would be won, and the Apocalypse would be halted once again. And if all went as planned, Dean would be able to stay normal and happy with Lisa and Ben. If anyone deserved an easy life, it was Dean. He just hoped that Sam being back wouldn't ruin it…

And then there was Jill. She would forgive him—she _had_ to. He would do everything he could and more to earn it. Nothing would stop him from making it up to her. That look of desperation and dismay on her face when he was leaving would haunt him until he made her smile again. And he _would_ make her smile again.

He was an angel of the Lord—how hard could it be?


	3. You Can Have My Isolation

**I must warn you, this chapter is pretty chick-flicky—even more so than the rest of this story. If you don't like that, I have a simple solution for you: don't read it.**

**I don't own **_**Supernatural **_**or any references to anything else you may recognize.**

Jill had always prided herself on being a very calm and level-headed woman. When she'd caught her husband cheating on her, she had very quietly told him that she was leaving, then proceeded to pack her bags and catch a bus into the city. Even when she lost everything in the divorce and was forced to rent out a rundown apartment and take up a job as a prostitute, she didn't complain. Life wasn't fair; no point in whining about it.

Losing her baby, however, was a different story. It almost broke her. Everything had gone wrong, she had lost the one thing that mattered most, and she couldn't see why God hated her so much. But she had managed to keep calm through that, too, and it eventually paid off. She had found the flyer for the orphanage and regained her faith in God. Now she was even getting paid, instead of just working as a volunteer. Her life was slowly getting better, and she was slowly becoming the same calm and level-headed woman she was before.

And then she met Castiel. And she helped him regain his faith in his father.

She helped an _angel _restore his faith in _God._

Yes, she had been sure he was an angel from the second he gave his name. It was just too unique, and too coincidental, seeing as their first meeting had happened on a Thursday.

And no human looked like that or had that strange light blurring the edges of his body. Thinking back, maybe she should've told him about the light. She was curious—could all humans see it? And if so, why hadn't people realized what he was before?

Castiel was _nothing_ like how she thought an angel would be.

He was beautiful, yes, and alarmingly so, but he was different. In the Bible, it described angels as fearsome warriors, able to unleash the divine wrath of God. But Castiel wasn't fearsome. He was kind and cautious and a bit clueless; he was loyal and sympathetic and full of doubt for himself and others; he seemed _so _willing to trust, yet so scared, and Jill _had _sensed a certain power within him, but _fearsome_? No way.

Not that she would say that to him, of course—offending an angel would be a totally stupid thing to do.

And the way he made her feel… Not even her _husband _had made her feel like that. Granted, Brian was a total dick—but he wasn't always that way. Still, even when they were just out of high school and madly in love, Brian had never made her heart flutter or her face flush or her palms sweat the way that angel did. Hell, she'd met him twice, and she was already head-over-heels for him.

Head-over-heels for an angel. Ha. What would her mom think of that? At least Jill could say that he was a very devout Christian—that would score them some brownie points for sure.

She couldn't get him out of her head, and it was starting to annoy her. She should be pissed beyond belief—he knocked her out and left her on a park bench the last time they saw each other—but something about him just wouldn't let her stay mad.

Maybe it was the slightly bemused look that was permanently etched on his face.

Maybe it was the smile he wore when she would burst out laughing.

Or maybe it was his eyes, eyes so blue and bottomless she felt like she could drown in them. Eyes that watched her every move, even if it was just the twitch of her fingers or the nervous tapping of her foot. Eyes that seemed to stare into her heart and soul and capture them both completely without even trying…

Yes, it was the eyes. _Definitely _the eyes.

But it was the rest of him, too: the faint stubble on his jaw and the mess of dark hair that brushed his forehead, that ridiculous trench coat and suit that made him look like a tax accountant, the way his head tilted to the side like a bird when he listened, and the deep, raspy, monotonous voice that didn't quite match his face, but still sent shivers up her spine.

He was perfect—utterly, beautifully, indescribably perfect.

And she wasn't.

Dark, drab, brown hair that matched her dark, drab, brown eyes. Unevenly tanned skin from playing outside with the children so much. A large, misshapen birthmark from her left ear to her jaw, which she used her hair to hide—she didn't even think Castiel knew about it.

And then there was the scar.

It was long and ugly, stretching across her stomach, the constant reminder of the fall that caused her to lose her baby. She hadn't lied when she told Cas that there had been no major injuries, but they had been major enough to leave the scar.

She was so painfully self-conscious of it. Her first night on the streets, she had lost her customer because she freaked when he asked where it came from. But, eventually, she got used to the hands brushing over it curiously and the whispered questions in the dark.

But if Castiel ever saw it—well, he couldn't. He was so beautiful, so _pure_, and she couldn't bear to let him see another of her imperfections.

Really, when she thought about it, she guessed she didn't have much to worry about. Not like they were ever going to _do _anything—he was an _angel._ And, hell, she'd probably never see him again, anyway.

Jill tried not to think about that. It hurt too much.

So she went on with her life and attempted to forget about the angel. It would do her no good to wish for things that would never happen. Best to be happy with what she had—she was good at that.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

"What's going on in that head of yours?"

The voice jolted Jill out of her thoughts and she looked up into the caring hazel eyes of Molly, her best friend and coworker.

"Oh, um, nothing," Jill said quickly.

"Is it a boy?" Molly asked suspiciously, a knowing smile on her face as she sat down on the park bench.

"No, it's—" Jill faltered. She couldn't lie to Molly. "Yeah, it is," she admitted with a dramatic sigh.

Molly clapped her hands enthusiastically and let out a little squeal of excitement. "I knew it!" she crowed. "Tell me _all _about him! His job, his personality, his looks! Oh yeah, and his name…" she added as an afterthought.

Jill giggled a little and rolled her eyes. "His name is Castiel," she said slowly.

"Oooh, unique! I _like _it! What's he like? Is he a bad boy? That just kinda seems your type!"

Jill didn't even bother asking how bad boys seemed her type. "No, he's… he's sweet," she said lamely, and Molly raised an eyebrow as if to say _Really? That's the best you can do?_ Jill sighed again. "But it's not just that. He's mysterious and shy and hesitant, and he's full of self-doubt and doubt for others. He doesn't come off as a very trusting person, but I can tell how much he _wants _to trust, and I'm trying to help him with that. And he doesn't really get slang or anything—but it's not annoying, it's… endearing."

"Well, he doesn't sound _too _boring," Molly teased, smiling. "What's he do?"

"Not sure," Jill said vaguely, and it wasn't a lie—she really _didn't _know what he did for a living—besides occasionally saving the world. "Mysterious, remember?"

"What's he look like?"

How was she supposed to describe him? Nothing she said would even come _close _to doing his beauty justice. But she could try.

"He's got dark hair—I can never tell if it's black or brown—and it's kinda messy, but not on purpose like most guys these days. He's got a little bit of stubble on his jaw, but he's not scruffy. And there's this trench coat he wears—sorry, _overcoat_—he corrected me last time I called it that—and it makes him look like a tax accountant or something, but in a good way."

"Sounds… interesting?" Molly said, giving Jill an odd look.

"And his eyes," Jill continued, as if Molly had never interrupted. Here her voice took on a dreamy quality and she stared off across the park. "They're the brightest, most beautiful blue you can imagine—so blue they're almost _unreal._ And when he looks at me, I feel frozen, captured, but not in a bad way, in the most _amazing _way you can think of, and the way he looks at me makes _me _feel beautiful, too. I just—I dunno how else to describe it. I've never felt this way about _anyone, _not even Brian. Castiel… he's an angel—beautiful and mysterious and perfect."

Molly stared at Jill, her mouth forming a small O of shock. Jill didn't notice, continuing to gaze at the deserted playground. "Wow, Jill," Molly said finally, laughing to cover her discomfort. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're in love with the guy!"

Jill sat up straight, snapping out of her reverie, and turned to stare at her friend. "You're right," she said quietly, her voice full of awe. "I _am _in love with him!"

"Head-over-heels" had been an understatement. Jill was completely _in love _with Castiel. It didn't matter that she had only seen him twice—she _knew _him, and she _loved _him.

And _that _was all that mattered.

She jumped to her feet and Molly flinched back in alarm. "What're you doing?" Molly asked bewilderedly.

"I have to find him—I have to tell him!" Jill exclaimed, a gigantic grin spreading over her face. "Can you take my shift? Tell Mrs. Jacobs I'll make it up this weekend!"

"O—okay…?"

"Thanks, Mol, you're the _best_! I'll call you later!" Jill took off running, waving behind her without looking.

"Yeah, you better!" Molly called after her, shaking her head, but Jill didn't hear a word.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Jill took the steps two at a time, not even slowing to walk around the homeless man asleep in the hallway. Instead, she leapt over him and continued to run.

She sprinted up two more flights of stairs, coming to a skidding halt in front of her door. She fumbled with the keys and nearly dropped them in her haste, but finally managed to get into her apartment.

Hands on hips, she surveyed the area. It wasn't much, but it was home—for the time being, anyway. But it sure was messy.

Well, of _course _it was. She worked at the orphanage during the day, and most of the time, as soon as it got dark, she worked the streets. She had no time for straightening up an apartment that nobody visited.

She went into a cleaning frenzy, determined to bring some sort of order to the place.

A little over an hour later, she was satisfied. The place wasn't sparkling, but it was better than it had been in a _long _time.

Now she just had to figure out how to get Castiel there. Should she pray? Would that work? It should; he was the Angel of Thursday, and it _was _Thursday. Didn't she hear somewhere that if someone prayed to him on his day, he _had _to answer?

Either way, it was worth a shot.

Jill stepped into the middle of her tiny living room/kitchenette, turned her face to the ceiling, and closed her eyes. Her hand slipped into her pocket, and she lightly touched the old penny for luck.

"Castiel?" she tried hesitantly, her voice shaking slightly. "Castiel, can you hear me? It's Jill. But—but you knew that already, didn't ya?" She sighed, feeling extremely foolish. "I'm worried about you. After the whole Crowley thing… You can't just expect me to forget that. I wanna talk to you. I wanna know how you're doing. I wanna see you again." Her voice began to get stronger as she became more comfortable with what she was doing.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Jill continued, "about what happened last time. I shouldn't have pushed you into doin' something you didn't wanna do, or talkin' about a touchy subject or whatever. And I want you to know… I'm not mad. I was, but I'm not anymore. I mean, you knocked me out with your angel mojo and left me on a park bench all alone, but I just… I can't stay mad at you."

She cracked an eye open and glanced around the room. He wasn't there. She felt the unwelcome prickling of tears and squeezed her eyes shut again. "Cas, c'mon," she pleaded, trying her best not to sound as desperate as she felt. "Cas, please. I _have _to talk to you. It—it's really important. Talk to me. Please." Her voice cracked on the last word and she frowned.

Why did she have to be so desperate?

Jill opened her eyes. The apartment was still empty. This time, she couldn't hold back the tears. "You told me you only came back to see if I was safe," she croaked. "I know you were lyin', Cas. Didn't we go over that? Please just talk to me. I _know _you hear me."

She opened her eyes a third time, but she was still alone.

That was it. She had been fighting a breakdown from the beginning, but she couldn't do it any longer.

She sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself as sobs shook her small frame. "Please, Cas!" she cried, tears streaming down her face and dripping into a tiny puddle on the floor. She didn't know why she was crying so much—was it really just desperation? Her mind briefly went back to their last conversation, the conversation about souls and Purgatory, and she knew that half of her breakdown came from fear for his life.

She still felt pathetic.

"I need to see you! Please come back! _Please_! I—I love you, Cas! I _love_ you!"

Jill's sobs eventually subsided into muffled hiccups and she buried her face in her hands. "_Please_," she whispered. "Please…"

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Castiel stood, invisible, in the corner of Jill's apartment.

She didn't know it, but he'd been watching over her every day, only leaving when the Winchesters called. He wanted to show himself, but he knew it was a bad idea. He shouldn't even be there. If Raphael found out…

He had heard her prayer and flown back to her immediately. And then he heard her confession. She _loved _him. He didn't know how to feel about that.

He was happy, of course, and _unbelievably _so, but he was also confused.

Did he love her, too? He was an angel—he didn't even know what love felt like.

But what he _did _know was that he was attracted to Jill, that she made him feel different, not so alone and hopeless and defeated—she made him feel human, but in the best sense of the word. Just seeing her gave him a surge of hope and strength.

And seeing her cry over him… It was pure torture. Every instinct, angelic and human, was _screaming _at him to go to her, to take her into his arms and wipe away her tears and tell her he was sorry and that he would never leave her again.

Was that love?

Somehow, he knew it was.

Castiel had fallen from Heaven, and then he had fallen in love.

An angel and a prostitute. What a pair they made.

Suddenly, Jill stood up slowly and stared right at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. For a moment, he wondered if she saw him, but she just sniffled loudly and shuffled into her bedroom. After a brief hesitation, he followed her.

He watched as she walked over to her bed and flopped down onto it. She reached for a small figurine on her bedside table, then seemed to think better of it and curled up into a ball. She pulled the covers up to her chin, and he could've sworn he heard her crying again.

Crying over _him _again.

An ounce of curiosity sparked in him, and he slowly made his way over to her bedside table. He took the figurine in his hand, then almost dropped it out of shock.

It was _him_—well, the "douchey" version of him, as Dean would say: large, graceful wings, long, flowing robes, and wise, slightly feminine beauty. It even had a plaque that read "Castiel, Angel of Thursday."

Where had she managed to find that? He turned the figurine upside down and saw a sticker on the bottom, saying that it had been five dollars from a flea market.

He didn't know whether to smile or frown. Smile because he was touched and a tiny bit amused that she had bought a miniature him? Or frown because she had turned the sculpture away?

He could hear Dean calling him. With a sigh, he put the figurine back in its place.

There was still time for him to wake her, for him to tell her he was sorry and he felt the same. He almost did; then he thought of Raphael again and stopped himself.

Dean's voice pierced his thoughts again. He sounded urgent and upset. Castiel would bet his nonexistent soul that it was about Sam.

Ever since Castiel had brought Sam back, he had noticed a change in the younger Winchester—and it wasn't a good change. Yes, Castiel had saved him from the Cage—where Lucifer and Michael had surely tortured him relentlessly—but Castiel still couldn't believe that it had changed the caring, sensitive man he once knew into an unflinching, emotionless machine. And if something _was_ wrong with Sam… Well, it was all Castiel's fault.

He looked down at Jill's now-sleeping form longingly. What would happen if he became visible and crawled in beside her? Would she scream at him and tell him to leave, or would she curl up to him and welcome him lovingly, no questions asked?

He liked to think it was the latter option.

Castiel sighed again, mentally preparing himself to leave her once more. He walked around to the other side of the bed so that he could see her face. She looked so devastated, even in her sleep. He had thought that most people were peaceful when they slept, but, apparently, he was wrong.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a dark smudge on her cheek. He stepped closer and squinted at it, then realized it was a birthmark, stretching from her left cheekbone to her chin. He couldn't believe he had never seen it before. Was she self-conscious of it? He couldn't imagine why. To him, it only made her more beautiful.

He heard Dean's voice and knew he wouldn't call again. Three times was his limit. Castiel had to go.

He gazed at Jill one last time, aching to reach out to her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice slightly catching in his throat. In a split-second decision, he extended his hand and touched the birthmark gently, his fingers feather-light against her skin. "I—I love you, too."

She began to wake up, so, forgetting he was invisible, the angel panicked and flew to his friend.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Jill woke up suddenly, but she didn't know why. She usually slept all night, no matter what went on. Living in a city as big and busy as Chicago must have trained her to be a deep sleeper.

She looked around her apartment groggily, but she didn't see anything suspicious.

Right as she was lying back down, kicking herself for being so paranoid, something caught her eye.

Her angel had moved.

The figurine normally sat right beside her alarm clock, facing the bed—watching over her, as she liked to think.

Now, it was on the opposite side of the bedside table, facing toward the living room. Someone had moved it.

Jill said bolt upright in her bed and glanced around wildly. "Cas?" she said hopefully, her voice still hoarse from crying. "Cas, you there?"

No reply.

_Of course _there was no reply. What was she expecting? For him to be there and pull her into his arms and kiss her forehead and tell her that everything was going to be okay? She was fooling herself if she had even considered the possibility.

Her eyes prickled again and a tear rolled down her cheek. With a final sweep of her bedroom, she wiped away the tear and snuggled under her covers again. "G'night, Cas," she whispered as she drifted back to sleep.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

Castiel knew he had a lot to make up for, and he remembered the promise he had made to himself the year before.

He would go back once the war was over. He would make her smile again. And he _would _tell her how he felt.

Maybe things would finally go his way. Maybe he could be happy.

Hell, after all he'd done, he certainly deserved it.


End file.
